Inexplicable
by rayemars
Summary: Tristan goes on a roadtrip to set his parameters, and someone he didn't expect joins him. Devlin and Tristan shounen-ai.
1. September to July 1st

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Warning, boyfluff and stylistic oddness lie below.  This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's up to twenty-one pages and I'm only half way done, so...yeah, you get chapters.  
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He'd been toying with the idea for a while, but it wasn't until he'd found the quote that it'd started to take shape as a possibility.

He'd been waiting for Joey and Yugi to show up at lunch one day, and it was taking them longer than usual.  For lack of anything better to do, he'd started flipping through the pages of Joseph L. Henderson's essay on archetypes and myths that they had to read for English.  It was boring stuff, and he was just skimming and wondering how Joey had gotten into trouble **now, when he'd found the sentence.**

"But nonetheless one can be filled with that spirit of divine discontent which forces all free men to face some new discovery or to live their lives in a new way."

That was when he started thinking of the trip as something that might be possible, not just an abstract thought.

A minute later the gang walked into view, with Joey and Tea bickering while Devlin added fuel to the fire and Yugi tried to play peacemaker.  As usual.  He'd crammed the essay into his backpack and zipped the thing shut.

But he started saving the twenty that his dad gave him for lunch each week and began covertly bringing lunch from home.  Joey harassed him about trying to get rich to impress Miho, and said that brown-bagging wasn't the way to go.  His mom complained that food was disappearing before she could get home to make dinner, and that he was seventeen and should be over the growth spurts by now.  He just shrugged a shoulder and kept saving.

That was back in September.  Over Christmas break he got a job, but had to quit when school started again.  "It's bad enough you hang out with that Wheeler kid," his dad said, "you aren't going to start ditching school for some minimum wage job."  But that was okay, because between the lunch savings and what he'd earned, minus Christmas gifts, he had over four hundred dollars.

That was back in January.  By the first week of May, he had over seven hundred, earning interest in the savings account he'd set up as soon as he was eighteen.

So he decided it was time to tell his parents.  There was two and a half weeks of school still left, and he could use the extra fifty, but as soon as they saw him overhauling the bike they'd be asking questions anyway.  So he dug up the essay from where he'd stuck it in the desk drawer, memorized the quote, and brought it up at dinner.

His mom stared at him, still holding a fork with a bite of chicken.  "You **what?"**

Tristan swallowed and repeated himself.  "This summer, I'm going on a road trip."

His mom blinked again, then set down the fork.  "For God's sake, **why?"**

"Because sometimes one can be filled with the spirit of divine discontent which forces all free men to face some new discovery or live their lives in a new way," he answered.

Tristan took another bite of chicken and washed it down with soda while his parents stared.

Then his dad spoke up.  "How's this going to affect your schoolwork?"

Tristan shook his head.  "It won't.  If I start working on the bike now, I can put it aside to study for finals and still get ready in time."

"What about summer reading?" his dad asked, ignoring the looks he was getting from his wife.

"I talked Mr. Philips into giving me the list early.  I already finished them **and did the dialectic journals," he said.**

"Don't tell me you're encouraging him!" his mom said indignantly.

"He's eighteen now.  We can't exactly stop him, short of throwing him out if the house," his dad told her.  The man turned back to Tristan.  "I planned on visiting colleges this summer, you know."

Tristan nodded.  "Yeah.  I'm going to get my job at Wal-Mart back once school ends and work through June, then take the trip during July and come back in August so I can get back-to-school shopping and junk done.  So we can do that in June or early August."

His dad nodded, but his mom shook her head.  "If you go in July, you'll miss the family reunion."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "That was half the point, Mom."

She frowned at him.  "I can't believe this, Tristan.  You don't have any plans, don't know where you'll be sleeping, and going off on your own....This isn't like you!"

"Yeah," he agreed.  "That was the other half of the point."

His mom had been dead-set against the idea, but when junior year was over and Gary put him back in his old job--but with a slightly higher pay--she realized he was serious.  And since his dad kept telling her it was a man thing, she said that the male side of the family was crazy but if he wanted to get himself arrested or killed, then fine.

She did give him her cell phone, though; but only after making him swear never to use it unless he **had** been arrested or killed.

By then, it was late June.  He'd put in his two weeks with Gary and the bike was in as perfect condition as it would get.  And his mom had given up trying to talk him out of the trip.

That was good, because he really couldn't explain it to her.  She thought it was a teenage rebellion thing, and his dad thought he wanted to be macho and go off on his own, and they were both mostly wrong.

He'd been thinking about leaving Domino City for a while, ever since the day he'd been mulling over how life had been changed since he met Yugi freshman year, and he had realized that he was the only sane person of all his friends.  After all, he wasn't in love with a person inside his best friend, he wasn't living with a woman six years older and several income brackets higher than him, he wasn't a reincarnation, he wasn't dead, he didn't have another half inside him, he hadn't been tattooed when he was ten, and his father didn't wear a clown suit.  Basically, he was normal as he could get.

Then he realized that he was out of practice dealing with normal, and he wasn't sure how to handle the revelation.  So, out of a lack of better ideas, he tried to make a list about himself, but that only made him aware of how much of his life was ruled by others.

By then, the whole Californian thing about 'finding yourself' wasn't sounding too damn bad.

And so, the road trip.  Because he'd decided that at eighteen, it was about time for him to figure out his parameters--who, exactly, he was when he wasn't making decisions based on what other people wanted.  At the moment, all he had was that he liked motorcycles and pancakes, and Joey Wheeler was his best friend.  He was also bi, but so far that stayed under wraps since he figured Miho wouldn't take it too well.

So.  He had almost fourteen hundred dollars and a month of solitude to figure himself out; and also to see if the rest of the world was as whacked as Domino City.

He figured that if there was anyone worth explaining all that too, it would be Joey.  So he'd covered his reasons while they were working on the bike the last week of June.

Joey shoved his hair out of his eyes, conveniently lying in the shade of the garage while Tristan was doing a last minute check in the sun.  The summer was as hot as usual, and even in a shirt with the sleeves ripped off and barefoot--and trying to ignore the way the concrete was burning his soles--he was roasting.  Joey had stripped down to his cutoffs, and the lazy bastard was still complaining.

"Throw me that wrench," Tristan said.  Joey idly chucked the tool at him, and he made a few finishing touch-ups.  Joey, sprawled out in the shade, went back to muttering about the heat, and Tristan half-tuned him out.

He had to admit, he was grateful that he didn't want to sleep with Joey.  It spared them both a lot of grief.  Not that the blond was bad-looking, but he'd wanted to strangle the guy a few too many times in their lives for him to consider Joey attractive.

"The heat's not that bad," Tristan interrupted.  "Ain't Mai wearin' less because of it?"

"Ohh, yeah," Joey drawled happily.

Tristan glanced over the seat of the motorcycle.  "Geez.  Can you at least **try** not to sound like you're gettin' laid every night?"

Joey just smirked and tucked his hands behind his head.  "Hey, don't get mad jus' cause Miho **still ain't givin' ya the time a day."**

Tristan threw the wrench back without bothering to warn him, but Joey caught it anyway.

"So, when're ya leavin'?" Joey asked, flipping the wrench in one hand with the other still behind his head.

"Tomorrow," Tristan answered, wiping off his hands.

Joey continued staring at the wrench he was turning, and Tristan was about to make a crack about baton-twirling when he said, "Y'sure yer comin' back in August?"

"If I don't, I'm gonna miss school," Tristan said flatly.  "Then Dad'd kick my ass."

Joey shrugged a shoulder, still watching the wrench.  Tristan leaned on the motorcycle and frowned at him, then remembered something.  There was an old, independent gas station a few blocks from where Joey lived.  It'd gone bankrupt during the fuel hike a few years ago--the pumps had been ripped out and the store boarded up--but way back in junior high, they used to hang out there.  The two of them had wasted hours leaning on the wall in front of the store, daring each other to jump in the back of one of the trucks or trailers and see how far it went.

Funny--**he** was supposed to be the one left against the wall while Joey took the dare and split.

Tristan flashed Joey a grin and trundled the bike into the garage.  "Don't worry, man, I'm not leavin' yet.  I can't go breaking Serenity's heart like that, can I?"

Joey growled and brandished the wrench at him.  "Listen, you lummox--" he started.

"If I touch your sister you'll beat the crap outta me, yeah yeah.  I heard it all last week," Tristan finished.

"S'not **my** fault yer too dumb ta take a hint," Joey muttered.

"Wrench," Tristan said, and Joey chucked it back not-so-idly this time.

Despite all that, Joey slapped him on the shoulder the next day, which was as close as they got to hugging.  Tea told him not to pick any fights, but she wasn't too worried since he was the smart one.  That pissed Joey off, and the two of them started up again.

Tristan grinned at Yugi while adjusting the straps on his helmet.  "Have fun; they're all yours for a month."

"Thanks..." Yugi said dubiously, but he smiled a moment later.  "If anything cool happens, send postcards!"

After some nodding, more good-byes, a final talk with his parents and his mom asking if he'd remembered to pack floss, he was gone.

He'd reached the streetlight before the access road to the highway when he spotted Devlin leaning against a newsstand on the corner.  That was a little surprising, since he'd figured that Devlin was either too busy to show up or Joey just hadn't bothered to tell him, but he waved briefly anyway.

"You're leaving now?" Devlin called.

Tristan nodded, glancing at the light.  Still red.  "Yeah."

"Want company?"

Tristan blinked and paused.  And thought about it.  And then he trashed all the tentative plans he'd made and said, "Sure."

The car behind him honked and Tristan realized that the light was green.  He flipped the blinker and made a right, pulling up to the curb.

Devlin shifted and straightened up from the stand, and Tristan saw that he had a duffle behind his legs.  He raised an eyebrow at that, but rummaged under his bag for the spare helmet.  Devlin had to pull his ponytail out so it would fit comfortably, and after that they managed to get both bags to fit under the bungee cords.  

Devlin climbed on, wrapping his arms around Tristan's waist after a pause.  Tristan pulled away from the curb, and made a u-turn into the right lane before pulling on to the access road.

And that was the start of July.  After that, things got interesting; but in a saner way than usual.


	2. July 1st through 13th

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Non-sadomasochistic, sarcastic shounen-ai. I could get to like this kind of fluff.  
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The day went by pretty easily, since all he did was drive west and stop at a MacDonald's.  When they got to the motel it became awkward, bouncing around each other and their schedules, but it wasn't bad.  He usually took showers at night, and Devlin said he showered in the morning--and it turned out he took a freaking long time, too--so that worked.  And they were both morning people, which was great.

The first night he learned that Devlin snored.  Not enough to make the prospect of the next month a living hell--he'd learned to tune out Joey's sleep talking when the guy used to crash at his house, after all--but it wasn't something he'd expected.

"You know you snore?" Tristan asked as he stuck his toothbrush and comb back in his bag.

Devlin gave him a look.  "I do not."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "Yeah, ya do."

"Prove it," Devlin said, swinging his duffel over his shoulder.

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "Right, I'll get the tape recorder I brought along and get you on tape tonight."

"If I had a buck for every time I heard that..." Devlin said lightly as he walked out.

Tristan leaned out past the wall that set the bathroom into an alcove and gave the door a look.

The motels changed quality with each day--the second night they were stuck in a tiny family-run place in a town that made him finally understand what "a wide spot in the road" meant.  The third night, they crashed at a Motel 6.

He'd thrown himself on the bed and was flipping through the channels when there was a yelp in the bathroom.  

"Geez!" Devlin growled.

"What, roaches?" Tristan called.

"No, the water's liquid ice," Devlin said, looking out into the main part of the room.

"So turn on the hot water," Tristan said.

"This **is** the hot water."

Tristan stood up and walked into the bathroom.  "It can't be that bad."

"Observe.  I turn on the hot water," Devlin said, twisting a knob.  Tristan clapped sarcastically, and Devlin grabbed his wrist and stuck his hand under the water.  "Now, that water is?"

"Gah!"

Devlin smirked and let go of Tristan's wrist.  "Like I said."

"Think we should call the front desk?" Tristan asked as he dried his hand on his shorts.

Devlin stuck his palm under the water again.  "Think they'll care?"

"Good point."  Tristan shrugged and folded his hands on the top of his head.  "Oh well.  Cold showers build character."

Devlin glared at him, shaking off his hand.  "So does snow-shoveling and horrible camping trips, and I don't like those either."

Tristan grinned.  "Don't tell me you have a stuffed tiger in your bag."

Devlin made an amusing face and shut off the sink.

He decided to take a detour the next day, and once they got off the highway they kept passing fireworks stands.  Devlin spent lunch trying to talk him into buying Roman candles.

"I promised to wait at least a week before I get arrested," Tristan said, dipping his chicken strip in ketchup and taking a bite.

"Come on, it's the Fourth of July!  You **have** to set off fireworks."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "Because...?"

"You're a red-blooded American male," Devlin answered.  He flipped a nugget in the air and caught it in his mouth, making it look easier than it was.  Tristan figured it was the dice practice.

"And that's supposed to be logical?"

"Of course," Devlin replied.  "Haven't you checked the statistics?  We like explosions."

Tristan rolled his eyes.  "I'm not buying fireworks," he said.

"Spoilsport," Devlin muttered.

Two days later, his mom called to make sure he'd gone to church.  He'd skipped, since he didn't want to ditch Devlin for an hour or so, and he doubted the guy would want to go with him.  He wound up spending fifteen minutes convincing her that he wasn't going to join a cult and start killing babies if he missed services for a month. 

His dad refused to back him up on the issue, so it was a losing battle conversation-wise.  Most of the time he spent glaring at Devlin, who was watching the TV on mute and snickering at his excuses.

After a brief lecture on personal responsibility--both physical and spiritual--he hung up and tossed the phone on the bed.  He threw himself down next to it.

"She's gonna do this **every week, I can tell already," Tristan groaned.**

Devlin turned the volume on again.  "So, tell her you're going."

"You don't know my mom," Tristan said, propping himself up on an elbow.  "She's psychic when it comes ta these things.  I'll wind up on the prayer list."

Devlin shrugged.  "Then tell her you've become a Buddhist.  They don't go to church."

Tristan glared at him.  "You're a real help, ya know that?"

Devlin tilted his head and gave him a half-grin.  "I live to please."

Tristan snorted.

The next night was Devlin's turn to pick the place to eat dinner.  He wasn't exactly surprised by the choice.

"Chinese again?" Tristan asked.

"I like Chinese!" Devlin argued.  "What, why don't you like it?"

Tristan made a face as he pulled into a parking space near the front of the buffet.  "I can never find anything worth eating in there."

That was the wrong thing to say, because Devlin then took it upon himself to convert him.  

He wound up following behind while Devlin piled a plate full of things he couldn't pronounce.  He recognized the rice, the spare ribs, and some funky looking mushrooms he'd seen at the grocery store before, and that was about it.

Devlin presented him with the plate.  "Here.  Eat this."

Tristan gave him a suspicious look.  "Just remember, if you're trying to kill me, I'm the one with the keys."

Devlin rolled his eyes.  "Just try it.  You'll be fine--it's not like I'm asking you to eat sushi."

When they sat down at the table he gave the plate another dubious look.  Devlin smirked at that, and so he glared and bit into an egg roll covered in bright red sauce.  It wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected.

He still didn't think it was better than pancakes, but he'd admit that Devlin had pretty good taste.

Half-way through the second week, he learned what took the guy so damn long to get ready in the morning.  The latest motel had the sink separate from the bathroom, so he got a full show.

"What?" Devlin said to Tristan's reflection in the mirror.

"You wear makeup?" Tristan grinned.

"Nooo," Devlin drawled, "this black line down my cheek is a birthmark.  Any more embarrassing anatomical questions?"

Tristan glanced upward before looking back at the mirror.  "You actually buy that stuff?"

"You want another sarcastic answer?"

"I can't believe that nobody's given you crap for buying makeup," Tristan said.  "And you're famous enough that you can't say you're buying it for your girlfriend; it'd be in the papers if you had one.  You secretly a shoplifter?"

Devlin waved a hand at himself, mock-indicating the clothes he normally had when it wasn't 96 degrees outside.  "I wear leather pants.  If a guy in leather pants wants to buy Maybelline liquid eyeliner, you don't argue with him."

Tristan snorted.  "I'll remember that."

Devlin cocked an eyebrow at him, still looking through the mirror.  "Hey, if you want some eyeliner, all you have to do is say pretty please."

Tristan gave him a half-smirk.  "I think I'll hold out.  I don't know where your stuff's been."

"I'm hurt," Devlin muttered, adjusting his headband.

Tristan propped his chin on a fist.  "You ready to go yet?"

"Look, you take half an hour fixing your hair when it just gets smashed by the helmet," Devlin accused.  "So don't bitch about me."

Tristan brushed a hand over the top of his head.  "Good point."

Then next day he just put some gel in his hair and shoved it out of his eyes.  Devlin raised an eyebrow at the new look, but followed along and just pulled his into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.  He was a little surprised at how much hair Devlin had when it wasn't fixed into all those waves.  

They got weird looks at the restaurant they stopped at for lunch--normal hair still didn't change the fact that they were sweaty and covered in grime from driving on the bike in the sun and open air all morning.  He figured he'd get inured to it in another week.  Or he could ask Devlin to start throwing dice at them.

Two days after that, they wound up in another Motel 6.  

Devlin looked up from the TV.  "Hey, Tristan."

Tristan looked up from his stretched out position on the bed.  "Yeah?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "West."

"Thanks," Devlin said.  "I really needed a human compass.  Do you have any destination **besides west?"**

"Nope," Tristan answered.  There was a pause, and Devlin changed the channel.  "The middle of the month's the 16th, right?  I figure we'll turn around about then, unless the money starts running out.  Then we'll go back sooner--but I don't think that's a problem.  The budget looks good."

Devlin changed the channel again.  "So, you set off with no idea of where you were going or if you'd have the money to stay away the whole month?"

"Yep," Tristan said.  He looked over at Devlin, who was staring at the TV.  "What's it matter?"

Devlin shrugged, not looking at him.  "It just surprised me.  I never thought you'd do something like that."

"If I had a buck for every time I heard **that," Tristan said.  He paused, then shrugged a shoulder.  "I wanted to get away from Domino City for a while.  Live life on my own, be a man, discover my inner chi...whatever it's called these days."**

The room was quiet except for the low noise from the television, and he fell asleep.  It wasn't until he woke up the next morning that he realized Devlin had never asked why he'd let him come along.

He figured that that was a good thing, since he didn't have an answer beyond the fact that Devlin was amusing and good to look at.  He wasn't certain how that would go over--and Joey had always been the risk-taker, not him.

His mom **did** call the next morning, and he had to admit to skipping church again, which went about as well as last Sunday.  The only difference was that Devlin was still under the blankets and had the second pillow covering his head, making vaguely threatening noises.  

He took pity and finished the conversation outside.


	3. July 15th through 16th

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

My fault--I should have mentioned earlier that in this fic, the characters exist in America. The use of dub names implies that they aren't in Japan, and while I normally can get away with leaving Domino City in some undefined Westernized country, they had to leave the city this time. Therefore, I made the country America, because the amount of research that would have been required to put them anywhere else would have resulted in this never getting written--but if they're American, I can just borrow personal experience.

Otogi's dub name is Duke Devlin, but the characters went back and forth between calling him Duke and Devlin--so I just use Devlin. Because every time I see or hear Duke, I get this mental image of Joey singing "Duke of Earl" until Devlin cracks him in the head, and it's hard to type while giggling.  
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He'd found that the major problem with bringing someone else along on a trip he'd intended to be solitary was that he was still stuck with the whole social barriers thing.  If he'd been alone, he wouldn't have cared about doing something inane and at random, but with Devlin around he didn't want to look like an idiot.

Though, sometimes he forgot that.  Two days later when they were driving down a highway that was nothing more than two lanes and an occasional shoulder, they started passing farmland.  

When a cotton field came into view, he slowed down and pulled onto the shoulder.  Devlin made an amused, 'what the hell?' noise, but he ignored it and climbed off, jamming the keys in his pocket.

He used the scrub brush to safely jump the fence, and wandered into the field.  The season had apparently already gone by, because most of the cotton was stripped clean.  He pulled off a piece that had been missed by the machinery and rubbed his thumb over it, picking out a seed.

When he turned around, Devlin was leaning on the fence, watching him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You know," Tristan told him, "life is normal."

He scored two eyebrows raised for that comment, until Devlin frowned and stared out at the field.  A minute later, he gave Tristan a half-grin.  "Good point."

Tristan flicked the cotton into the air and said, "Nice ta know, huh?  Domino City ain't the world."

Devlin laughed.  "Thank God for small favors."

Tristan climbed over the fence and pulled out the keys.  "We might as well stop this afternoon, since we turn around tomorrow."

"About that," Devlin said.  "Do you actually know how to get back?"

"That's what the map is for," Tristan answered.

Devlin gave him a flat look.  "Tell me you're kidding."

"I'm kidding."

Devlin squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.  "We're never going see home again."

"Hey!" Tristan said.  "Have a little faith, huh?  We'll get back before school starts.  We're only three states away."  He stuck the key in the engine.  

Devlin rolled his eyes and slid onto the bike.  "I feel so much better," he muttered.

Tristan frowned over his shoulder and turned the key.  The engine coughed, sputtered, and died.  He tried again, with the same results.

"C'mon, start!" Tristan pleaded.  The engine died a third time.  "Shit."

Devlin started snickering.  It turned into full-out laughter after the fourth failure.

"You're not helping," Tristan growled.

"You have to admit," Devlin said, calming down, "that life's got a sense of humor, too.  'We're only three states away'!"  He started chuckling again.

Tristan had to smile at that, but he glared at the gauges anyway.  He got off and started scanning the bike.  "It's too hot to check.  But if I can't fix it....Crap.  A mechanic will wipe me out."

Devlin jumped down and leaned over the seat to look at Tristan.  "Good thing you brought me, then.  Or you'd be hitchhiking back."

Tristan sat down on the concrete.  "Well, hell.  Do you remember what the sign said--how much further to the next town?"

Devlin shrugged a shoulder.  "Double digits."

Tristan huffed.  "Great.  Just great.  It's too hot to walk that far."

"Eh," Devlin said.  "We'll just get someone to give us a ride to the town.  Try and look sexy."

Tristan made a 'what?!' face at him, but Devlin ignored it and sprawled across the motorcycle.

Tristan continued to stare at him before shaking his head.  "You know, if DDM doesn't pan out, you should pose for Playgirl."

Devlin snorted.  "Thanks."

In an hour and twenty-three minutes, eight cars had gone by.  None stopped.

"You sure you look sexy enough?" Tristan asked, sitting in the patch of shade the bike gave.

"You could always take your shirt off," Devlin replied, an arm draped over his eyes to block out the glare.  "That should help."

"Don't feel like sunburning," Tristan replied.

"You'd rather walk all the way to town?"

"I think we should start doing that anyway," Tristan said, standing up.  "If I can't fix it, we need to grab a mechanic."

"Don't worry.  Even in the middle of nowhere, they can't close before noon," Devlin said.

"No, but they **can** go on a three-hour lunch break," Tristan answered.

"Wait another half hour," Devlin replied.  "If nobody drives by, we'll walk."

"They'll drive by," Tristan muttered.  "They just won't stop."

Devlin lifted his shoulders.  "Like I said, lose the shirt.  Maybe we'll get lucky and some girls will fall in love with you."

Tristan gave him a side look.  Then he yanked off his shirt and tossed it onto Devlin's head.

"Agh!"  Devlin started in surprise and wound up sliding off the bike.  He held up the shirt, then gave Tristan a look. 

Tristan was staring cheerfully in the other direction.  He had the urge to whistle.

Devlin shook his head and jammed the shirt under one of the bungee cords.  "You're surprising."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "I'm sorry?"

"I like that."

Another car passed them up.  A few minutes later he was about to grab his shirt back so he could wipe his face, when a truck appeared.  It passed them, then slowed and pulled over to the shoulder.

Devlin stood up and smirked at him.  "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

The truck had two girls in the back and a guy driving.  The guy, Ben, helped him and Devlin get the bike into the back of the truck and told them that the mechanic in town would be open until four.  By then he was ready to ditch the hunk of metal just to get a shower.

He wound up sitting in the front, since Devlin was yanked into the backseat as soon as the two girls caught sight of him.  He got the feeling that Ben was dating one of Devlin's newest fans, judging from his annoyed look.

"How long were you guys out there?" Ben asked.

Tristan checked his watch.  "It's been about two hours since the engine died on us.  Can you give me directions to the mechanic?"

Ben shook his head.  "I'll drop ya off.  It's only a street over from where we're goin'."

Tristan grinned.  "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, thank you," Devlin echoed.

"Yer welcome."

The nearest town was nineteen miles away, so Devlin fished dice out of somewhere--and he really wanted to know **where the guy was keeping those dice, since his clothes weren't exactly loose--and spent the time doing tricks.  Ben didn't understand why Devlin looked so amused when he asked if they were from Louisiana.**

Ben dropped them off at the auto shop, and he dragged the bike over to the shade and checked it.  One he got a clear, cool view, the problem was minor--he could fix it with the tools he'd brought.

It seemed a little insulting to repair his bike in a mechanic's parking lot, but it wasn't like he could move somewhere else.

"They've got a laundromat two blocks down," Devlin said as he walked out of the shop.  "We might as well get that out of the way."

"I'm starving," Tristan said.  "And we both look like road kill."

"Speak for yourself."

"Hey, did any cars stop until I started getting naked?"

"Congratulations," Devlin smirked.  "You should have asked Ben if we could stay at his house.  He obviously wouldn't have turned you down."

Tristan rolled his eyes.  "Is there anywhere to eat around here?"

"I asked, but the guy looks annoyed.  I wouldn't risk it; I bet he gave me directions to the junkyard," Devlin answered.

Tristan pulled out his keys and tried the engine again.  It sputtered and caught.  "Yes!"

He took a brief test run around the block, and the bike drove as smooth as before.  So, after hitting up Burger King and eating in the laundromat, he refilled the tank and they started looking for a place to stay.  They wound up at a Holiday Inn.

"Wow," Devlin said.

"What?"

"There's a mini-bar," Devlin told him.

"In this kind of place?" Tristan asked, looking out from the bathroom.

"Yeah."  There was a popping noise.  "Help yourself--my treat."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "Thanks.  I'll be sure to get us stranded more often."

They ate dinner straight out of the mini-bar, and he and Devlin wasted the rest of the night watching HBO and bad reality television.

"Why do these shows still get ratings?" Tristan mused after Survivor closed.  "People don't do anything but mock them any more."

"But they have to watch it in the first place to mock it," Devlin replied from his seat at the desk.  "It's devious."

"Not really," Tristan said, glancing over from where he was lying on the bed.  "They're all the same.  If you saw one of the first few, you could make jokes based on that.  Nothin's changed."

"It has too," Devlin said.  "There're internal differences--they aren't as similar as people make them out to be."

"And you would know this how?"

Devlin glared.  "I hold the remote, you know.  Any more slander on my taste in TV shows and we're watching Real World."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "You wouldn't put yourself through that just to spite me."

He learned that Devlin was not a person who bluffed.  

Halfway through the second episode, Tristan covered his head with a pillow.  Devlin turned the volume up.  

"Look," Tristan gritted, "if you don't turn this crap off I'll take that remote from you."

Devlin smirked.  "Oh, really."

Tristan lifted the pillow enough to glare at him.  "Yeah, really.  You're shorter then me; I can kick--OW!" he yelped when a die hit him between the eyes.  "You bastard!"

Tristan threw the pillow, but Devlin blocked it with an arm, laughing.  He tossed the remote onto the bed.  "Here, end the torture."

Tristan scowled at the television, violently selecting the TV Guide channel.  Nothing good was coming on until the next half-hour, so he just let it run and watched the interview.

Devlin sipped his Dr. Pepper.  "What's your problem with reality TV, anyway?"

"It's fake," Tristan answered.

Devlin raised an eyebrow.  "Don't tell me you're one of those artistic integrity people?"

Tristan rolled his eyes and picked up his Pepsi from the floor.  "No, it just bores me.  Ya cram a bunch of people together, watch 'em fight, eventually someone's tragic past comes to light, and by the end you've learned secrets about people you're never gonna meet.  It's just...dull and unbelievable."  He chugged the bottle and set it down.

"You lost me with the 'unbelievable'," Devlin said.  "The whole point is to put them in unreal situations--it's not **supposed** to be believable."

"Not that," Tristan explained.  "The idea of people talking so openly about their private lives to a camera is just weird.  People don't do that."

Devlin took a drink of soda while shaking his head, which was harder than it looked, Tristan knew.  He'd tried it.  "So...you like to keep to yourself?"

Tristan shrugged.  "I guess.  No.  I just wouldn't talk about my worst fears or my kitten's death when I was eight to a giant audience on top of a bunch of strangers I was living with."

"Okay...."  Devlin nodded.  "So what's the dumbest thing you've ever done?"

Tristan gave him a look.  "Yeah, like I'm gonna give you something to blackmail me with."

"I'm serious."  Devlin stretched slightly.  "I'm not an audience or a stranger you're living with--so c'mon, tell me something."

Tristan gave him a suspicious look.  "You first."

Devlin rolled his eyes.  "Fine."  He paused, screwing the cap back on his bottle.  "When I went to talk with Pegasus about producing my game, I asked if he wanted to sleep with me."

Tristan blinked at him.  Devlin threw the bottle at the trash can; it bounced off the counter and rolled in.

Tristan reached for his soda in order to have something to do besides stare.  He drained the rest of it, then frowned.  "I thought he was married, or engaged or something with that Cecelia chick."

Devlin nodded.  "That's why he turned me down."

Tristan made an empathetic face.  "Ugh.  Yeah, that must've been pretty embarrassing."

Devlin shifted so he was sitting sideways in the chair, legs draped over the arm.  "It could have been, but he was polite about it."  He shrugged.  "Doesn't matter; I wouldn't change it."

Tristan gave him a curious look.  "What?  Why not?"

"What if he'd said yes?" Devlin replied.  He twisted around into as comfortable a position as he could manage while sitting sideways in an armchair and looked at Tristan.  "There.  I'm obviously not gonna blackmail you--so what've you done?"

Tristan threw the empty Pepsi into the trash, scanning through his memories.  Something stupid, something stupid...something stupid but **not** illegal, since that one was between Joey and himself...huh.  The answer came back to the same one it always did when he thought about the things he'd screwed up in his life.  "Bakura."

Devlin frowned.  "Huh?"

"Bakura," Tristan repeated.  "You remember him, the guy with the white hair?  In our freshman class?"

"One of the Millennium Item people, right?"

"Yeah."  He rolled over onto his back and folded his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.  "I always have this feeling that if I'd keep a better eye on him, he'd be alive."

"There's no way to prevent car wrecks, Tristan.  Unless you're omnipotent and haven't mentioned it."  Devlin's tone wasn't blowing off the subject, just saying the same thing Joey and Yugi had told him--it was an accident.

"Cars don't go over the guardrail on bright afternoons when there's no one else on the road," Tristan muttered.

Devlin stayed silent, and he could see from the corner of his eye that the guy was staring at the wall.  Tristan continued.  "I dunno.  It's just a feelin'.  If he hadn't been alone in the car I wouldn't even think it, 'cause he'd never hurt someone else."  Tristan half-shrugged.  "It's just....I feel like I shoulda caught a sign and done something earlier."

"Was there anything **to do?" Devlin asked.**

Tristan stared at the watermark in the ceiling.  "Probably not.  But I still should've kept an eye on him more.  He just...didn't seem like the kind of guy who could take care of himself."

The TV babbled in the quiet, and Tristan frowned.  He propped himself up on his elbows and stared at Devlin.  "Wait, are you gay?"

Devlin gave him a flat look.  "And you're an A student.  No wonder Domino High didn't get that Exemplary award."

Tristan was trying to pick between glaring or keeping his confused expression when Devlin continued.  "Yeah.  Is that going to make the rest of this trip weird?"

"No..." Tristan said.  "It actually helps.  I couldn't tell if you were flirting with me or not."

Once again, he scored two eyebrows raised for that.  "You were flirting with me?  I thought I was imagining it.  Hell!"  Devlin eyed the pillow on the floor and looked like he was going to throw it at Tristan.  "I thought you were head over heels with Serenity!  And what about Miho?"

Tristan laughed.  "Man, if I really tried to date Serenity, Joey would cream me.  And Miho...three years and I still can't get a date?  I can take a hint."

Devlin made a growling noise and reflexively brushed his bangs aside.  "Since when did you like guys too?"

Tristan shrugged and tried to look serious.  He settled for a grin.  "I figured it out around last year.  There was a really hot senior on the basketball team."  He managed to tone down the grin and gave Devlin a questioning look.  "Why are you so surprised?"

Devlin waved a hand at him.  "You're a jock."

"And half the female population of our school's in love with you."  Tristan paused.  "Huh.  Maybe that should've been a sign."

Devlin chuckled, then looked at him.  "So...I was flirting with you.  And you were flirting with me?"

When it was put bluntly, Tristan paused slightly.  "Uh."

Devlin swung his legs back around and stood up.  He moved slowly enough that it was pretty obvious what he was going to do, but Tristan didn't stop him.

When he reached the bed, Devlin waited a minute before leaning down and pressing his lips to Tristan's.

When he pulled back a moment later, Tristan raised an eyebrow at him.  "And?"

Devlin gave him a look.  "You know, you can be a jerk at times."

"This from the guy who put my best friend in a dog suit."

Devlin smirked at that, then knelt on the floor so he could comfortably kiss him again.  A moment later Tristan opened his mouth and ran his tongue lightly over Devlin's lip, not sure what counted as 'too much too fast' to the guy.

Apparently not that, because Devlin was quite happily French kissing him now.

Tristan could feel a crick developing in his neck from tilting his head back too long, so a moment later he pulled away.  He sat up and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.  "Ow."

Devlin made a face.  "I hate Pepsi."

Tristan gave him a side glance.  "Thanks.  That makes me feel **real** good."

"I could swoon if you like."

"**I** can be a jerk?"

Devlin grinned up from where he was sitting against the bed.  "I never said I wasn't."  He picked up the remote and flipped back to MTV.

They watched Clone High, and he pretended that he wasn't getting caught sneaking looks at Devlin, since Devlin was pretending that he couldn't see him doing the same thing.  

After that he got up and showered, since their plan was to leave early tomorrow.  When he walked out of the bathroom, Devlin had turned off the TV and was asleep on his own bed.

He slid under the covers of his bed, making sure not to untuck them any more than necessary--he liked sleeping with the sheets really tight.  Joey gave him grief about it all the time, whenever he stayed over and watched him make the bed in the morning.  He turned out the lamp.

"I do not snore," Devlin muttered.

"Yeah, you do," Tristan answered with a grin.

Devlin growled.

Devlin spent breakfast bitching about the price of the mini-bar, so he sprung for the meal.  They took off for the highway that would eventually lead back to Domino City, and he was suddenly more aware of the fact that Devlin had to wrap his arms around his waist in order to stay on the bike.


	4. July 17th to 20th

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Sorry, sorry, sorry! I really didn't mean to leave a two month gap between chapters, I swear. And it's short because so much happens on the 20th that I decided to make that a chapter of its own.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he checked over the budget the next day, he realized that they were going to have less than he'd planned by the end of the month.  It was still enough, but after the mess with the bike he didn't want to take a risk and wind up strapped for cash.  The only way to get around the lack was to spend more time on the road.

The problem: he could only drive for so long.  The solution: teach Devlin to drive the motorcycle.

Though it was weird to be on his bike and not in front, it went better than he'd expected.  Devlin drove a standard, so the main trouble was getting him to remember that the clutch, breaks, and throttle were all switched around on a motorcycle.  Well, that and ignoring the innuendoes about driving stick.  Now, they cleared a lot more time the third day.  The only trouble was, it left him with more money, but less time with Devlin.

It was about then that he realized the trip had changed from being something to figure out who he was when he wasn't acting for others, to including how having Devlin--who had somehow pulled himself out of the status of 'other people', the cocky bastard--around changed him.  He was surprised to find that the difference wasn't much.

An hour later, they came to a new city, and Devlin yelled over the noise that he was stopping there.  He pulled off the exit ramp and hit eight consecutive red lights.

"Nice choice!" Tristan called.  Devlin muttered something under his breath.

A little while later Devlin pulled the bike up to a Marriott, and Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "Uh, no offense, but I can't afford to breathe the air here."

"That's okay," Devlin said.  "I've got my credit card on me."

Half of Tristan wanted to say that he didn't want to leech off of Devlin, and the other half wanted to strangle the guy with his pony-tail.  "That might have helped to know when I was ranting about the budget Thursday."

"Yep," Devlin agreed, shouldering his duffel.  "But then you might not have taught me to drive your bike."

Tristan tossed his bag over his shoulder.  "You could have just asked...."

"Too easy."

He was seriously uncomfortable standing in the lobby while Devlin rented a room, but there wasn't much to be done for it.  He contented himself with using the video camera to glare at the guy indirectly.

He didn't realize he'd been noticed until the woman at the counter turned around to get the key card, at which point Devlin looked up and gave the camera an evil smirk.

He debated flipping him off, but by then the lady had turned around.  Instead, he followed Devlin to the elevators.  

"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Your point being?" Devlin asked as they stepped inside.

Tristan glanced upwards.  He leaned over Devlin's shoulder to check the floor number, then hit the button.  "Never mind."

All the rooms were beginning to look the same to him, but he still had to admit that this place was snazzy.

Devlin threw his duffel and himself onto the closest bed.  "Ahh, no cigarette smoke.  No broken air conditioners.  No lady with eight cats that I **know weren't allowed to be in there."**

Tristan snorted.  "Aw, were the motels not classy enough for ya?"

"The company made up for it," he replied.

Tristan smirked.  "Well, of course.  Anybody'd give their right arm to be in your place, spendin' all day with a handsome guy like me."

Devlin sat up with a smirk.  "You sure you don't have that backwards?"  Tristan glared at him.  Devlin just laughed and stood up.

Tristan rolled his eyes and threw his bag onto the other bed.  "Ah, bite me."

Devlin raised an eyebrow.  "You never told me you went for the kinky stuff."

Tristan stared at him and shook his head in amazement.  "Geez, how did you ever manage to convince people you're charming and refined?"

"Because I **am** charming, and refined and debonair and whatever else there is."  Devlin flipped his hair out of the way.  "I just happen to be a lech at heart, as well."

Tristan laughed at that, and Devlin used the distraction to walk over to him.  When he'd quieted, Devlin grinned.  

"You know you're really hot when you laugh?" he asked.  Then he reached up and caught Tristan's chin, pulling him down into a kiss.

Tristan grinned and kissed him back.  He wondered where to put his hands, then decided to hook them in Devlin's pockets.  The other brunette smirked at that, then shoved him back.

"Wha--" Tristan's hands slipped out and he crashed into the desk chair that had been strategically behind him.  Devlin followed, bracing a knee on the seat and half-straddling his lap.  He leaned down and kissed him again, and Tristan slid his tongue out and ran it along Devlin's lip.

Devlin relaxed and settled onto his lap, opening his mouth with a grin and quickly responding to the kiss.  Tristan raised an eyebrow when he felt Devlin's hands slide under his t-shirt, but he draped his arms across Devlin's back anyway.  The movement was more awkward than he wanted to admit, but he still wasn't sure where to keep his arms.

When Devlin's hands slid into his shorts a moment later, though, it wasn't okay anymore.  It wasn't like he owed the guy for the damn room or something.

Tristan shoved him back slightly, and Devlin stood up.  "What are you doing?" he said.

Devlin gave him a half-confused, half-flat look, and fine, he had to agree that it was pretty obvious, but...still.  "I'm not that easy, okay?"  Then Tristan softened the words, since he really did like the guy.  Like that.  "Just, y'know, hang on a while, huh?  We've got a couple more weeks."

Devlin paused at that, and then started chuckling under his breath.  He moved back enough to sit on the set of drawers cattycorner to the chair, pulling a leg up to rest on the edge as he laughed.

Tristan narrowed his eyes and was about to yell at him when Devlin spoke.  "I should have thought about what this would seem like to you."

Tristan frowned.  "What?"

There was a long pause, and Devlin started twisting a strand of hair around his fingers.  "Tristan...."  Devlin looked over at him.  "Did you ever stop to wonder why, if I'm gay, I was competing with you for Serenity for so long?"

He hadn't.  Come to think of it, it was a pretty good question.

Tristan frowned slightly.  "I just figured you liked her, too."

Devlin shook his head.  "No.  I mean, she's a nice girl, but there was nothing there."

He raised an eyebrow.  "Then, what?  Didja just feel like bein' annoying or something?"

"Well," Devlin said with a half-grin, "you're also pretty hot when you're pissed off."

Tristan blinked at that, and stared at him.  Then he leaned back and slouched down in the chair, a confused expression still on his face.  "Wait...are you trying to tell me you've liked me since back **then?"**

Devlin nodded, still toying with his hair.

"I can't believe this," he said, staring at the TV for lack of anything else to look at.  "Three years, and you never said anything?"  He glanced back over.  "Since when did you have restraint?"

Devlin lifted the corner of his mouth.  "I didn't **think I was being subtle, but next time I'll throw myself in your lap in the classroom.  Will that work?"**

Tristan gave him a half-hearted glare, and Devlin shrugged.  "Look, I don't want to make things weird since we've still got a while to go before we reach Domino, so I'm okay with whatever you're okay with.  I'm just trying to say that...this isn't...I'm not rushing."

Oddly enough, that made him feel better.  Tristan leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his legs and letting his hands hang down.  "Okay."

There was a long pause, and then Devlin said, "So, can we make out if I keep the hands above the waist?"

Tristan made a startled noise between a choke and a snicker.  "Jesus, beneath all that flair you're just a horny pervert, ain'tcha?"

"The leather didn't tip you off?"

Tristan shook his head and bent over, shoulders shaking with laughter.  He calmed down a few moments later and stared at the floor, thinking.

Then he looked up again with a grin.  "Sure.  Sounds good."

And so he had quite a lot of fun until they had to get presentable enough to go eat dinner.

It was impossible to tell that they had used the bathroom for anything other than the intended, but he still felt guilty.  So the next morning he bought some chocolate chip muffins at the breakfast bar and left them in the room for the cleaning ladies, despite Devlin's smothered snicker.


	5. July 20th

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

**Spoilers** for the movie 28 Days Later within (which, despite what Tristan says, is a pretty good movie).

I started this fic during Christmas break, as a silly little warm-weather self-indulgence.  I posted it before it was finished, for some insane reason I can't recall, in April.  It's now July, and I'm not finished yet. The moral of this story: I suck at time management. Them's the breaks.

Neko-chan! Don't assault the other readers, it's not nice!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seeing as it was Sunday, he wasn't surprised that the phone rang while they were leaving.  He slung his duffle over his shoulder and walked out to the bike, leaving Devlin to charm his way into convincing the woman at the counter that they didn't need to be charged for leaving past the checkout time.

Tristan opened the phone.  "I still haven't killed anyone or started worshiping Satan."

He could just picture the frown.  "I don't appreciate your flippancy, you know."

Tristan strapped in the bag as he spoke.  "Mom, geez.  Why are you so insistent on this?  What makes you think I'm going to become a horrible person just for missing a month's worth of church, huh?"

"Well, those three years of junior high where you were constantly in fights thanks to Joseph immediately come to mind."

"...."  He sat down heavily on the bike.  "...I don't--"

"I **know** you're not trying to lie to me, Tristan Michael Taylor."

He opted for the safe reply of silence, and a moment later his mother sighed.  "I just don't want you to fall back into those habits, dear.  You've got such a bright future before you--you need to be concentrating on important things, like studying for the SATs and getting good grades for your applications, not people who are going to hold you back."

He'd been raised to be polite to his parents, verbally if not mentally, so he gritted his teeth for a moment before replying.  

"Joey's never held me back," Tristan said.  "And don't worry, I'll live up to everything you and Dad expect.  So can you give me a little credit, here?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me," she said, but when he didn't reply she caved slightly.  "Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"Don't worry about that."

Another sigh, and then, "Goodbye."

"Bye."  After a second's pause he snapped the phone shut, automatically ending the call, and glared forward.

A while later he blinked and focused again when Devlin waved a hand in front of his face.  "We ready to go, or do you want to continue making the desk lady nervous?"

"Huh?"

"You're staring at the doors like you want to rip something's throat out.  The woman's beginning to develop a tic."

"Oh.  Sorry," he said shortly.

Devlin raised an eyebrow at that, but strapped in his bag without saying anything.  As soon as he was on, Tristan pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway.

He wasn't sure what pissed him off more, the implication that anything about his personality that didn't match his parents' wants had to be the fault of Joey or someone else, or the fact that he'd wasted all of junior high trying to keep his fights secret.  He could've just walked through the front door at night, instead of nearly breaking his neck climbing in the bedroom window.

Well, no.  His dad couldn't know, since he would still be grounded.  But the fact that his mom had still found out...he didn't like doing pointless things.  Dammit.

He shouldn't have brought the cell phone.  He should have accidentally left it on his bed or dresser or something, and split without anything to tie him back to Domino.  Hadn't that been the whole damn point of leaving that place behind?

...Why did his stomach hurt?

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and realized that Devlin was clinging to him for dear life.  What the hell...?

He blinked and checked the speedometer.

Huh.  Yeah, that **was a little fast.**

Tristan let up on the gas and pressed down on the clutch, gradually slowing them to something resembling the speed limit.  He glanced over to the left mirror, wondering if police sirens were going to start up any time soon.  Wouldn't **that** be great to call home about....

Devlin turned his head slightly at the same time he had, and Tristan caught a glimpse of his face through the visor on the helmet.  

He recognized the expression.  It was the kind of angry that only came from trying to avoid sadness.

And again, what the hell?...oh.

It made sense.  They'd started actually doing stuff last night, and now he was acting like a sociopath...Devlin probably figured that he was having second thoughts.  Guess it was his turn to be the one that didn't think about how it would look.  

At least he'd seen Devlin's face.  Whether that was luck or God giving him a hand, he didn't know, but he said thanks anyway.  Things might have been screwed up if he hadn't, and this was something he didn't feel like wrecking.

...Wait, he wasn't having second thoughts?

He checked.  None.  There were thoughts of what was going to happen when they got back to Domino, but that was a whole different set--and besides, Domino wasn't too high on his 'likes' list at the moment, so those thoughts could just rot until next week.

No second thoughts.  Nice to get that cleared up.

He glanced at his watch, saw that there were a couple more hours until noon, and slowed down more until he hit the speed limit.  Devlin loosened his grip on his waist a moment later.

It was nice to be able to breathe again, but he still missed the feeling.

When it was time for lunch, he found an IHOP and pulled into the lot, parking over in the corner where there weren't many other cars.  When Devlin tool off his helmet and pushed his hair back from his face, he decided it was better to get things out of the way first.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that," Tristan said.  "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

Devlin raised an eyebrow.  "What made you think I thought it did?"

Tristan pointed at the mirror.

Devlin frowned a second, but he figured the guy'd caught on when his eyes widened slightly and the business of tying his hair into a ponytail again became all-consuming.  He gave him the time.  He knew how much people hated it when you saw past their fronts--he was friends with Joey Wheeler, for Chrissakes.  He had some first-hand experience with how ugly it could get.

When Devlin had finally finished fixing his hair and looked up again, Tristan said, "I just...wanted to clear that up.  It has nothing to do with last night."

Devlin nodded.

Tristan slid his hands in his pockets, fidgeting slightly.  "So...are we cool?"

"If you are," Devlin said.

"Okay."  Tristan paused, then started to walk to the restaurant, and Devlin fell in step beside him.

When he spotted the newspaper stand, he had an idea, so he hung back long enough to buy a copy.  After he made his way into the building, Devlin was leaning against the counter with a slightly bored, impatient look on his face.

They got a booth and read the menus in a silence that wasn't entirely comfortable.  Tristan started to flip through the paper as they waited, until he was interrupted by their order arriving.

"Um, this might sound strange," the waitress said as she put Devlin's plate down, "but has anyone ever told you you look like Duke Devlin?"

Devlin grinned at that.  "Thank you.  I'd hope that I would look like myself."

The waitress got a shocked expression.  "You--you're **the Duke Devlin?"**

Devlin gave her a half-bow.  "The one and only."

"Oh my God!"  The waitress gave the table a frantic look, then grabbed Tristan's napkin and held it out.  "Could I have your autograph?  Please?"  She fumbled and pulled a pen out of her apron.

Devlin took the pen with what Tristan was starting to think of as Charming Expression #3.  "Sure.  What's your name?"

"It's Tracy Miller," she replied.  As Devlin started to write a note on the paper,  she added, "I love your game!  I'm constantly bugging my little brother to play it with me."

Devlin laughed and handed the paper and pen back to her.  "I'm glad to have fans like you.  Here you go."

"Thanks **so** much," Tracy said, folding the napkin like something precious and sliding it into her pocket.

"Oh, could we get a new napkin?  Please?" Devlin said.

Tracy looked over at Tristan, who gave her a half-smile.  "Oh, right!  I'm sorry," she said.  "I'll get you one right away."

"Thanks," he replied.

She turned around the corner, picked up another set of silverware, and handed it to Tristan before smiling at Devlin again.  "Thanks again," she said.

"My pleasure."

Tracy hesitated a moment, before turning and heading back to the kitchen.

"That's the third time someone's stolen my napkin for your autograph," Tristan muttered as he unrolled the silverware.

Devlin smirked and raised an eyebrow.  "People have taste," he said.

"Except for you?" Tristan asked innocently.

Devlin started to reply to that, then evidently couldn't think of anything and settled for a glare and attacking his seasoned red potatoes.

There were a few minutes of silence, and then Tristan spoke up.  "Why'd you get named 'Duke,' anyway?" he asked, taking another bite of pancake.  "It makes ya sound like someone from Happy Days."

Devlin shrugged.  "I was apparently a very effeminate infant," he replied.  "So my mom tried to reverse the problem by giving me the most butch name she could think of."

"Didn't work, did it?"

Devlin did an impressive job of covertly flipping him off with the hand holding his fork.  Tristan just snickered and went back to flipping through the paper.

"Ha!  Found it!"

"Found what?"

"The movie section," Tristan answered.  "I thought we could just stay here tonight, and see a movie once we've found a motel."

Devlin raised an eyebrow.  "Is there room in the budget?  We haven't gone very far--there's two more states left."

"Yeah, I know, but I just don't feel like getting any closer to Domino today."  Tristan shrugged.  "Just...don't."

Devlin stopped lifting his fork.  "That's it.  It's Sunday."  He gave Tristan a flat look.  "Why don't you just **go to church already, if you're getting hassled so much over it?  It's not like it'll be hard to find one--we're in the damn Bible Belt."**

"Because I don't want to," Tristan replied, just as flatly.

Devlin made an 'oy vey' expression at that, but just tossed a strand of hair over his shoulder.  "What's the cause for the movie, then?" he asked as he took another bite of potato.

"I'm not sleeping with you until we've gone on a date."

He made a note to not be so blunt while Devlin was eating, because he didn't really remember how to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

"What?!"

"I said--"

"I heard you, I heard you," Devlin replied.  "But, it...that's....Why?  We've practically been living together for the past three weeks.  Shouldn't that make for some kind of exemption?"

"Doesn't matter," Tristan said.  "It's just not right."

"It's not...."  Devlin put his fork down on the table and rubbed his forehead with one hand.  "I don't think I know you at **all," he said under his breath.**

Tristan glanced at him over the paper.  "Sorry?"

"It's not a bad thing," Devlin muttered.  "Just frustrating sometimes."  He looked up.  "It's like, I thought I knew you, but now, out of Domino...you're someone else."

Devlin had a slightly strange expression on his face, so he was about to ask what that meant, but then Tracy returned to refill their drinks.  After that, they started to fight over which movie to see, and there just didn't seem a time to ask anymore.

They found a decent enough motel after lunch, though it really easy to tell the differences between it and the Marriott from last night--the burned circuits odor coming from the air conditioner, for one.  

He threw his bag on the bed next to the window, then reached in his pocket and turned off the cell phone before tossing it in the bag.  Screw it all.  If anyone wanted him, they could wait until he got around to checking the messages.  Joey probably wouldn't get himself arrested or snap and kill his dad any time other than night, and Devlin was here, so that covered all the people he really cared about.  If anything happened to Serenity, Yugi, Tea, or anyone else, he'd hear it from Joey.

Devlin killed a few hours watching television, while he finally remembered the book he'd thrown in the duffel and started trying to read it again.

When it was almost time to leave and he was washing his face, he glanced in the mirror and noticed Devlin pick the book up and check at the title.

"...."  Devlin raised both eyebrows and got a slightly wide-eyed look.  "Erotica Vampirica?!  It's official.  I clearly don't know a damn thing about you, Tristan."

He smirked slightly at Devlin's reflection, which was turning the book over.  "It's not mine."

"Wheeler?"

Tristan laughed.  "Right.  Joey, willingly reading about vampires.  The day that happens, I'll sell my bike and join corporate America."  He grabbed a towel and rubbed the water out of his eyes.  "It's Bakura's.  He loaned it to me, but I never got a chance to give it back."

Devlin's eyes got a little wider.  "Wait, Bakura?  _Bakura-Bakura?  The one from our class?"_

"Yup."

"It really **is** always the quiet ones."  Devlin started flipping through the pages.  "Hey, transvestites."

Tristan finished drying off his face and turned around, leaning against the counter with a grin.  "You know **how **he loaned it to me?  He brought it to school in a **paper bag.  Wouldn't let me open it in public--I had to wait 'til lunch and look in the bathroom.  We're lucky that some teacher didn't notice and think it was drugs.  I think he would've died if I'd had to pull it out in the classroom."  The grin faded.**

Devlin laughed quietly and shut the book, glancing at the cover again.  "How did he even manage to buy it in the first place?"

Tristan shrugged.  "Beats me.  I bet he wore a disguise or something."

Devlin put the book back on the bed.  "So, you've been carrying it around for the last few years?"

"Yeah," he answered, hanging the towel back up.  "I figure I'll finish it eventually."

Devlin pursed his lips, holding back a smirk.  "You haven't yet?"

Tristan gave another shrug.  "I keep leaving it to do something else.  Short stories aren't my thing, you know?"

"Huh," Devlin said.  "I like short stories more than novels.  It's like getting little glimpses into people's lives."

Tristan rolled his eyes.  "Voyeur," he muttered.

Devlin gave him a wide grin.  "No, no--I'm the exhibitionist."

Tristan tried to avoid it, but he laughed anyway.

After they arrived at the theater, another argument started when he said that he was paying.

"Because it was my idea!" Tristan retorted.  "That means I'm supposed to pay!"

"Haven't you heard of going dutch?" Devlin replied in exasperation, jerking his hands to the sides.  "It's perfectly acceptable these days!"

"Would you just act like a normal person and be happy you don't have to shell out any money for entertainment?" Tristan asked, before turning and walking towards the ticket counter.

Devlin followed a moment later, blatantly sulking.  "I don't **like someone else paying for me.  I'm not the girl in this relationship, damn it."**

"**I'm** not the one who wears makeup."

Devlin growled.  Tristan cheerfully ignored him and glanced at the showings above the counter.  "What?  Pirates of the Caribbean is sold out!  I wanted to see that."

"You and the rest of this town," the girl behind the counter said in a tired voice.

"Why don't we see The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, then?" Devlin suggested, his tone somehow managing to make the title sound incredibly dirty.

"I don't think so," Tristan bit off.  Devlin mock-pouted in the faint reflection of the glass, but Tristan rolled his eyes and scanned the remaining titles skeptically.  "...How 'bout two students for 28 Days Later?"

"Eleven dollars."  Tristan handed her the money, she punched some buttons, and handed him two tickets a moment later.  "Here you go, have-a-nice-day."

Once they were inside and in line for the snack counter, Devlin turned his head sideways and gave the booth an amused look.  "Aren't they supposed to ask for ID?"

Tristan smirked.  "Did you see her?  She was a robot.  I probably could have said I was a kid and she wouldn't have given a damn.  Do you like popcorn with or without butter?"

"You're not buying the popcorn too!"

"Sure am."

There was a brief glaring match.

"...Fine," Devlin muttered a moment later.  "But I'm paying for dinner tonight!"

Tristan grinned brightly.  "I was hoping you'd say that."

Devlin furrowed his brow in confusion, then gave him a wide look.  "You manipulative bastard...."

"Thank you."  Tristan turned to the counter.  "Large popcorn, butter."

"No butter," Devlin interjected.

Tristan made a face, but amended the statement.  "No butter."

The guy behind the counter raised an eyebrow, but just said "Righto" and grabbed a bucket.

They had about fifteen minutes before even the previews started, since they'd arrived expecting a different time, so they lucked out and got some of the best seats in the middle.  The theater was surprisingly empty, even for a five o'clock showing.  He hoped the movie didn't suck.

"So, are you also going to follow the whole 'third date' rule, too?" Devlin asked.

"Huh?"

"You know," he explained, "the 'third date, either kiss or give the let's-just-be-friends talk' rule."

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "I think it's a little late for that one."

Devlin shrugged a shoulder.  "I was just curious--especially since you're going by this rule."

Tristan made a flustered hand motion.  "Look, it's just...something you **do.  It's not the right thing not to."**

"Very convincing argument."

"Bite me."

"Ooo, even more convincing!"  Devlin grinned.

Tristan glared, turned and shoved the bucket against Devlin's chest.  "Here.  Eat the weird, dry popcorn."

Devlin tilted his head slightly.  "How can you want that disgusting yellow stuff on it?"

"It's not disgusting," Tristan argued.  "The popcorn tastes stale without it."

"...so...you need it greased to keep it from being unpleasant?"

"Ye..." Tristan blinked, then buried his head in his hands.  "Gah."

Devlin laughed.  "You walked into that one."

"Do you have **NO** shame?!"

Devlin just flipped a piece of popcorn into his mouth and didn't reply.  Or, to be precise, he didn't reply until later on during when the lights were off and the previews had started, and the brunette 'accidentally' dumped part of the bucket into his lap.

"Agh," Tristan muttered, starting to brush the stuff off onto the floor.  "Thanks a lot."

"Sorry," Devlin said, voice totally devoid of guilt.  "Hey, don't waste it.  I'll clean it up."

"What do--" he was cut off by the fact that Devlin had suddenly stuck his hand in between his legs.  "Yah!  The fuck?"

Devlin smoothly popped a single piece of rescued popcorn in his mouth.  "I though we had to go on a date before that.  Or do we not have to sit through the whole movie?"

Tristan's hand twitched, and he tried to shift away as Devlin reached over and picked up another piece, deliberately brushing over his thigh again.  "I can't believe you called **me** the manipulative bastard."

Devlin just smirked, so Tristan scooped the rest of the popcorn into a hand.  When Devlin started to move again, he leaned and clapped it over Devlin's mouth, cramming the popcorn in.

Devlin made a half-choked noise and Tristan immediately moved his hand away, but after a moment of chewing later the other teen just started laughing.  Tristan rolled his eyes and turned back to face the screen.

Devlin fell oddly silent once the movie started, but when Tristan looked over while the main character was wandering around the empty city, he didn't notice anything odd.  Devlin was just sitting with one leg resting on the chair in front of him and one on the cushion of his seat.

He didn't catch on to the reason behind the other teen's unease until that night, when they arrived back at the motel after dinner and were about to go to bed.

Tristan shut off the water and threw his towel back onto the rack, then opened the door partly and turned off the light.  He blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust.

"Hey, leave the light on," Devlin called quietly.

"What?" he asked, still trying to get his eyes to adjust before heading to his bed.  "How'm I supposed to sleep?"

"You'll manage."

"Why?"

"I don't know, in case I wake up later tonight and don't want to go stumbling around to reach the bathroom," Devlin said.  "Just because."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, even though he wasn't sure the other teen could see his face.  "You're **right next** to the bathroom.  There's nothing to stumble into but the wall, and I think the bed should take care of that.  Why're ya suddenly scared of the dark?" he added, walking over to his side of the room.

Devlin didn't reply, and a moment later he figured it out.

"Oh shit," Tristan said, "don't tell me you don't like horror movies."

"Not a whole lot, no," Devlin muttered into the pillow.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I wasn't paying attention.  I was talking to you."

"Oh."  Tristan sat down on his bed.  "C'mon, there's nothing to be scared about with that thing.  I mean, the whole basic premise was stupid!  Infecting monkeys with rage so we can understand it better?"

"Do you think that, if I could convince my mind to listen to logic, I would be freaked out in the first place?" Devlin replied dryly.

Tristan snorted.  "Point.  But still...would leaving on the light really help?  Remember how that only drew their attention?"

"Oh, thank you.  Now I'm picturing zombies breaking through the window.  Do me a favor, Taylor, don't be a counselor."

He grimaced slightly.  Okay, so maybe that wasn't the most comforting thought to come up with...it was late, dammit.  He wanted to sleep.

He glanced over at Devlin, who had the covers pulled up over his ears despite the fact that the air conditioning was lousy.  Then he got an idea.

Tristan stood up.  "Move over."

"Mruh?"

Tristan pulled down the blankets and pushed Devlin's shoulder.  "Shove over, Dev.  I'll sleep on the side closer to the window.  That way, if The Infected bust in here, they'll kill me first, and you'll be so stricken by grief that you won't notice when they off you."

Devlin mumbled something composed of "not fucking 'Dev'," "hope they do," and "snarking egotist bastard," but he scooted over immediately.

Tristan threw the blankets towards the end of the bed, then draped the sheet over his waist and buried his face in the pillow.  "Night."

Devlin shifted a little closer and laid his arm by Tristan's, just close enough to tell he was there.  "...Night."


	6. July 21st to 27th

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi.

Other disclaimer: the rating **R means **not to be viewed** by age **17 or under**. Bye kids. Shoo.**

Final chapter. Everyone who reviewed, much thanks. More than a few times, reviews helped form what happened in the chapters. 

Neco-chan! Don't assault **me, either!  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

He woke up like usual: a little hungry, a little sleepy, a little horny.  He also woke up with Devlin next to him, which made for a nice adrenaline attack that cleared away two of those three.

The start he gave woke up Devlin as well, who promptly expressed his displeasure by pulling the pillow over his head and muttering, "It's not morning."

Tristan shoved his bangs out of his face.  "Every day ya say that, an' I have yet to see the sun stop."  He patted Devlin's arm.  "Keep working on those omnipotent powers, Dev.  You'll get there eventually."

Devlin made a half-hearted effort to smack his hand away.  "Too early for big words.  Shut up."

Tristan shoved the sheet down and started to sit.  "Make me."

He just managed to get his legs slung over the bed when Devlin wrapped a hand around his arm and yanked him backwards.

"Ow!  Dammit, you violent bastard..." Tristan cussed as he rubbed his arm, more annoyed at being caught off-guard than in actual pain.  He started to sit up again, only to have Devlin prop himself up on his hands and grin down at him.

"What? That was clearly a challenge," Devlin said cheerfully, before leaning down and kissing him.

He had a brief thought that morning breath wasn't exactly sexy, but...well...there was the small matter that a Devlin was on top of him.  Toothpaste just wasn't enough incentive to move.

Devlin shifted to the right slightly, bracing his weight on one arm, and causing the earring to knock against his chin.  He pushed it out of the way, only to have it come straight back, this time with one of the corners hitting his jaw just hard enough to irk.  He made an irritated noise under his breath, but conceded to the law of gravity and slid a hand along Devlin's cheek, pushing the strands of hair that were tickling his face out of the way.

Geez, the guy had a **lot** of hair....

Devlin's free hand was tracing circles on his side, and he was briefly glad that he wasn't ticklish, because giggling at this moment would just...not be cool.

Devlin started to move his hand lower, but hesitated and let it rest on his stomach.  The other teen broke the kiss and pulled back slightly, resting his cheek against his own.

For his part, he lay there listening to their panting, blew a few strands of Devlin's hair away from his mouth, and wondered what was about to happen.

"Is this okay?" Devlin asked quietly.

He stopped, and thought about it.

"Yeah," Tristan said.

He could **hear** Devlin smirk, which was disconcerting.  "Heh.  Everyone caves to my charms eventually."

"Jerk," Tristan muttered, but then Devlin slid his hand underneath his boxers and the conversation took a rapid change.

Later he decided that if, when the both of them had been quite happily basking in the aftershocks and he hadn't even minded the fact that Devlin was still half sprawled on top of him, he hadn't looked over at the clock and proceeded to shove the other teen out of the bed and into the bathroom in a vain hope to make the checkout time, it might have been more romantic.

But then, it wouldn't have been them.

He wasn't totally sure what to call the things they were doing the next few nights.  It didn't seem to be exactly sex, but it sure as hell was more than the making out before had been.  Finally he decided that he didn't really need a name, and let it go.

He almost found it funny, though, that after all the time he had spent drawing this out, not totally sure where any of it was going, he suddenly wanted to go all the way.  He figured most of the urge came from the fact that they were rapidly getting closer to Domino, and he had no idea how everything was going to change once they were back home.

He could have spent more time on the road--the budget could afford it, if they ate cheap--since at the pace they were traveling they would arrive at in the city with over half a week still left in July.  But, Devlin insisted on getting home as quickly as possible after he'd decided to make a call and check up on his company.

Considering just how much of Devlin's side of the conversation he heard clearly--with the guy talking on his cell phone outside--he wasn't all that surprised at the news.

Devlin stormed back into the room with a violence that he would normally have expected to bring the owner down on them, if it weren't for the fact that he was sure Devlin's screaming fit had convinced everyone in the building to stay far away from the insane teenagers in room 127. He hoped no one was considering calling the cops.  His bag was sitting packed by the headboard, just in case.

"Thank God for Seto Kaiba," Devlin growled as he threw himself on the bed, conveniently landing on the section that he himself was occupying.  He shifted enough that Devlin's elbow was no longer digging into his spine and raised an eyebrow.

"That's one I haven't heard before."

"Yeah, well, if it weren't for the obsessive reign he's had over KaibaCorp since he was what, fifteen, those idiots would have fucked up my company even more.  How **dare they think I'm too young to handle the presidency?!  I leave for ****one month, and they start thinking they can run the place better than me.  I should fire them, the smug bastards!  I ****never gave them permission to switch parts companies--my relationship with Industrial Illusions is going to be trashed!  What they did with the DICE!!  What the **hell** were they thinking, contracting Crystal Caste?  The cost is going to be absurd!  We'd have to raise the price of the game, and people aren't going to pay--"**

He stopped trying to keep track of what Devlin was talking about and opted for the safe route of nodding whenever the guy stopped to breathe.

"Are you listening?"

"Nope," Tristan replied cheerfully, "'cause I got no idea what the hell you're goin' on about.  But if you give me the names of these guys, Joey and I can go beat them up."

Devlin stared at him for a moment, then snorted.  "Thanks, but I'll try to solve this legally."

"There's nothing illegal about my suggestion."

"You've never heard of assault and battery?"

"That only applies if you don't beat them so senseless that they forget your face."

Devlin raised both eyebrows at that, and he belatedly decided it was time to shut up.

They were one state away from home when he very calmly and abruptly came to the realization that time was running out.  Most people got revelations on mountain tops or in valleys or in hospital waiting rooms--his came in a Walgreens' at eight thirty-two in the evening.

He was with Devlin, in another state, with no parents or friends or anybody that would see them for more than a day, staying in motels as a matter of course.  The situation couldn't be more perfect if someone set it up.

And he wanted to sleep with Devlin.  And Devlin had made it clear beyond any interpretation that he wanted to sleep with him.  And he had come to terms with liking guys over half a year ago, dealt with the obvious religious conflict, and decided that he had enough unrepented sins that he was pushing the forgiveness line anyway, so what was one more?  All he had to do was stop hesitating.

But that just left out one small detail: he hadn't done this before.  And Devlin, going off irrelevant comments, small actions--geez, the way the guy **kissed--had.**

He hated being in any situation where he was out of his league, no matter what it was, no matter who it was with.  He'd even gotten as good at fighting as he was because he didn't like the fact that Joey outclassed him.  Joey was still better, but that was because he never stopped, unless the other guy was down or he was bleeding enough that it hampered his movements.  So he was not happy about this.  But he didn't want to waste what was left of the trip.  

All that really meant was that he was standing in the aisle at Walgreens and trying to decide if he wanted a Pepsi or a vanilla Coke, when he realized that he had two options: he could either be embarrassed at some point in the week, or he could be regretful once they hit home.

He didn't like regrets.  Thought they were pretty damn stupid, actually.  So that settled the issue easily enough.

Of course, it helped that for some reason this Walgreens had their condom display set up right by the refrigerated food section.  He was amused at that, though he wondered how some mothers must have reacted when their kids asked what all the bright boxes were for.

...not that he was totally sure what all the bright boxes were for.  Or at least, what the difference between them all was.  Shame that health class never covered that.

"I recommend the pouched kind, if they've got it."

He dropped the soda.

"**Shit**, are you **tryin**' to kill me?  Don't sneak up like that, ya jerk!"  Tristan turned around and glared at him.  Devlin just snickered, so he leaned down and picked up the Pepsi bottle.

"I was just trying to help--you looked like you were having a hard time picking one," Devlin commented.

His face felt hot.  Dammit, if he looked like he was blushing, something in this building was going to _die_.  Preferably the teenager behind him.  Devlin's hair was more than long enough to strangle with.  No court would blame him.

Homicidal thoughts aside....

He brushed off the bottle and glared at it for good measure.  "Man, and I was thirsty...."

Devlin shrugged and straightened from where he'd been leaning against the shelves.  "Trade it.  Seriously, though, the pouched are the best kind to get."

He shook his head slightly.  "I thought that was the ribbed or something."

Devlin furrowed his brows.  "I dunno...I think that's more for women.  I've never seen the difference."

He realized he was twisting the bottle in a nervous gesture and made himself stop.  Instead, he rolled his shoulder and rubbed at the knot that had developed after Devlin used his arm for a pillow yesterday.  "Okay, then.  Which...uh, which one d'you suggest?"

Devlin knelt in front of the stand and threw his ponytail back when it fell over his shoulder.  "...this one, I guess.  It looks like the right size.  Which lube do you want?"

Tristan wondered if buying condoms was supposed to be this embarrassing, or if it was just him.  Devlin was too perverse to count as a judge of action.  "Hell, I don't know.  That one?"  He pointed a box near Devlin's hand.

Devlin gave him an 'are you kidding?' look.  "That's oil-based.  Using oil-based lube on latex condoms is like...pouring acid on them."

Tristan scrunched his nose.  "Thanks for the mental image.  Fine, what **are** you supposed to use?"

"Water-based, duh.  Didn't you ever listen in sex ed class?"

Tristan raised an eyebrow.  "I don't know what kind of school you went to before y'transferred ta Domino, but here sex ed is the bathroom walls."

Devlin snorted, then picked up a box that didn't look any different from the one he'd pointed at, aside from the lettering and color.  He stood.  "I can go ahead and pay for these, if you wanna get a drink that's not going to blow up in your hand," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, okay," he said as the other teen disappeared around the corner.  Tristan watched him in the mirrors set alongside the ceiling until the stacks got in the way.  Then he leaned back and banged his head into the shelf once.  "Arg."

He stared at the wall above the refrigeration unit for a few minutes, deliberately refusing to think.  Then he straightened and rolled his shoulder again before heading for the checkout counter.

The guy looked at him funny when he paid for the Pepsi.  He wasn't paranoid.  **Arg**.

Devlin was just outside, leaning against the wall in a posture that was somewhere between a slump and a crouch.  His first thought, as it usually was when Devlin did things like that, was that the guy was really flexible.

He proceeded to focus on the bottle and twist the cap open.  The soda proceeded to fizz all over his hand.  Devlin proceeded to laugh at him.

"Arg!"  Tristan shoved the drink forward, trying to keep it from spilling onto his shoes.

When the carbonation was done asserting its love for the open air, he threw the cap into the trashcan by the door.  "I give the hell up," he muttered, holding the bottle gingerly and wiping his hand on his shorts.

Devlin managed to smother himself to a snicker.  "I **told** you to trade it."

"Bite me," Tristan said off-hand, trying to find the least slippery place to hold the bottle.

For once Devlin didn't reply to that, which actually said more, and he started chugging the soda as an excuse to not look at anything.

Once they got back to motel, he cussed himself out because his hand was shaking slightly as he keyed open the door.  However, when they got inside, Devlin just threw the sack on the counter and grabbed the remote before flopping down on the bed.  When the other teen turned on the TV, 'relief' was probably the best term for what he felt.   Relief and disappointment, actually, which was a really annoying combination.

Of course, Devlin's actions were probably being prompted by the fact that he was acting as transparent as friggin' glass.  He resisted the urge to bash his head against something.

A moment later he sat down on the floor in front of Devlin's bed and leaned against the mattress, absently rubbing his shoulder while Army of Darkness played on the TV.  AMC was really beginning to stretch their definitions of "classic."

"Still got that knot?" Devlin asked a little while later.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Want me to massage it?"

Tristan snorted.  "Riiight.  You just want an excuse to get my shirt off."

He could **hear** Devlin raise an eyebrow and smirk.  It was the tone.  He'd started to recognize it.  "I wasn't planning on that, but hey, if you wanna be shirtless...."

He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a huff.  Devlin snickered, then slithered further up the mattress until he could comfortably reach down and rub his shoulders.

"Ow," he said as the other teenager pressed down right on the sore spot.

"Bah," Devlin replied, but he lightened his grip slightly.  

After a few more minutes and one or two accusations of trying to make his arm fall off, the other teen sat up.  "Okay, this is killing my wrists.  Sit on the bed or something."

He rolled his eyes, but reached back and pushed himself up onto the mattress.  Devlin continued his shoulders, but after another minute, he stopped.  "The shirt's bunching up too much.  It's driving me nuts....**Would you mind taking it off?"**

Tristan smirked.  "I knew it."

"Yes, yes, my grand seduction scheme has been seen through," Devlin deadpanned.  "Now I shall have to come up with some other plot to have my wicked way with you."

"Nice rhyme," he muttered under his breath as he pulled the shirt over his head and threw it at the other bed.  Devlin didn't reply, and went back to rubbing his shoulder.

The massage wasn't actually helping his arm any, but Devlin had nice hands, so he didn't see a reason to mention it.

He could feel the other teen slowing down as time passed, though.  Eventually, Devlin just rubbed his thumb absently over his shoulder blade before stopping and letting his hands drop.  "Look, you know that...I....I'm not trying to push you into anything.  Just tell me what you're okay with, and that's where we'll stop."

He tried to think of a good reply for that, but everything was either rambling or incoherent.  Finally he decided that words sucked, then turned around and kissed Devlin.

Devlin waited about two seconds before slinging his arms around his neck and pulling him closer.  He thought the guy said something along the lines of "This is not **telling," but it was pretty hard to figure out what he was saying when Devlin's lips were smushed against his own.**

Gravity and Devlin pulling resulted in the two of them landing heavily on the mattress, still kissing.  He managed to untangle one arm enough to slide it underneath Devlin's shirt, running his palm along the other teenager's side.  Devlin shifted and arched his back at that, so he could push the shirt further up.  Of course, that arching also caused him to rub against the other teen in a rather nice spot....Okay, that next one was deliberate.  He could hear Devlin smothering a snicker.

He pulled his head up and was about to say something on how annoying the other guy was, but there was that breathing thing to take care of first.  Panting did not really equal breathing.

Devlin shifted, then pushed him up enough that he had room to start tugging at his tank top.  He half-fell to one side to support his weight and helped, trying not to catch Devlin's earring in the process.

Devlin scrunched the shirt up into a ball and tossed it at the other bed as well, before leaning over and kissing him again.  After that went the shorts, which involved a lot more squirming than he was sure was necessary, and then the underwear--and he **still **found it intensely frightening that Devlin wore thongs--and then Devlin pulled back, panting in an attempt to get enough breath.  He didn't totally mind.  He was still expending a good amount of energy on the breathing thing too.

He rocked his hips against the other teen's for a moment, making Devlin shift and arch again, before he blinked and pushed himself up slightly.  "I'm not...too heavy, or anything?"

Devlin just wrapped an arm over the small of his back and leaned up to kiss him again.  "'S okay," he mumbled against his mouth, "I like it."

He didn't think that he'd flinched, but he must have done something, because Devlin pulled back.  "Are you sure about this?" he asked, watching his eyes.

"Yeah," Tristan said.  "I...yeah."

"Okay...let me..." Devlin squirmed off the bed and headed for the counter where the Walgreens bag still sat, turning off the TV while he was there.  He brought the bag over and dumped the contents on the bed, before pulling the band holding his ponytail out and retying his hair into a half-bun-like thing.

Tristan raised an eyebrow, and Devlin shrugged.  "I have to get it out of the way, or I'm gonna wind up getting it pulled on later, and that sucks."

Tristan made a snickering noise, but stared down at the boxes as he tore them open.

Putting on condoms was a pain in the **ass, he found out.  Why people still went bareback started to make a little more sense.  Wasn't any less stupid, but at least he could see the reasoning behind it.**

It probably would have sucked more if Devlin hadn't been cracking jokes and commenting the whole time.  He knew the guy was a pervert, but he hadn't realized that he had a dirtier mouth than him, Joey, and Kaiba combined when he whipped out the extended vocabulary.  That had been disturbingly funny.

He also hadn't realized the condoms and stuff were for him, though.  It wasn't like he'd thought they were for Devlin, either, it was just....Thinking.  He'd been thinking about too much and nothing at all for the whole night and as far as paradoxes went, it sucked.  He hadn't thought sex was supposed to be this difficult.

He was probably starting to be obvious, too, because Devlin was watching him again.  Before the other teen could speak, though, he shook his head and stared down at him.  "Are you sure you wanna do it like this?  I mean, I don't really..."

Devlin reached up and pushed back a strand of hair that was sticking to his cheek.  "Yeah.  Usually the guy who's not...not as experienced is the pitcher, since, you know, it'd be kind of weird otherwise?"

Tristan frowned.  "Pitcher?"

Devlin snickered, and he figured it out a second later.  "Don't **even make a bat and balls analogy, man," Tristan told him.**

Devlin laughed outright at that.  He calmed down a moment later, though, and wrapped an arm over his back, prodding him down into another kiss.  "Yeah," he said when they broke apart a little later.  "I like the feeling.  It's okay, really."  He pressed his hips up again.

It must have been the expression on his face.  Dammit, he was supposed to have better control than this.

Devlin pushed on his shoulders slightly until he sat up.  The other teenager followed, then hesitated and let his arms fall loosely over his shoulders.  "Look..." he started, "I really meant it.  I don't want to push you.  If you're not enjoying this, then I don't want to do it."

Tristan let one of his hands fall into Devlin's lap.  "Really?"

"Mpft," was the reply.  A moment later he said, "Okay, move your hand so I can talk coherently."

"That was pretty coherent," Tristan grinned, doing so.

"I'm talented," Devlin threw off.  Then his face turned as serious as he could manage.  "Yeah, really.  I mean, okay, I'm going to have to take a shower, and I'll use up all the hot water to spite you, and I'll probably be bitchy for the next couple of hours, but...yes.  Really."

Tristan snorted.  "That's a real convincing argument you got there."  He hesitated.  "I want to.  I **really want to.  It's just...."  He trailed off.**

He knew Devlin; he'd gotten to know more about him in the past four weeks than he really had in the past two years.  The guy was a cocky, sarcastic, arrogant bastard at times--a lot of times--but he wasn't an asshole, and if he'd just been scoring, he'd have given up a long time ago.  So finally he just threw his cards on the table and let himself look weak.  "...I don't know what the hell I'm doing," Tristan finished.

Devlin ran a hand along the back of his neck for a minute, before pulling away and kissing him briefly.  "...will you trust me on something?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tristan replied.

Devlin shifted around at that, and they eventually wound up with him lying on the mattress and Devlin straddling his waist.  The other teen glared around the bed.  "Did you see where the lube went?"

"Uh," Tristan said.  "I think the box fell over there."  He pointed vaguely, but yanked his hand back when Devlin licked his finger.  "Freak...."

After another moment of searching Devlin pulled the small tube out of the folds of the sheets and twisted the cap off, before leaning down giving him a wide grin.  "Aw, you know you love me," he said cheerily.

He was spared from trying to answer that when Devlin leaned down and kissed him again.  A moment later the other teen smeared some more lube on his palm and reapplied it to the condom.  He closed his eyes at that, so it wasn't until Devlin ran a hand over his chest and said "Hey," quietly that he opened them again.

"Is this okay?" Devlin asked.

"Yeah," Tristan replied.

Devlin nodded and shifted again, before pushing himself down.  He bit off a noise at that and bucked his hips up reflexively.

Devlin hissed.  "Give me a second," he managed, leaning part of his weight on one of his arms.

Tristan's eyes widened.  "Shit, sorry!"

Devlin gave him a half-grin.  "It's cool....I know I'm just that irresistible."

Tristan laughed slightly, but then Devlin rocked his hips, and after that...yeah.  His mind got a little fuzzy.  He did remember that the earring Devlin wore dangled down, and that he was tempted to flick it.  It was a strange detail, but for some reason he recalled it with crystal clarity.

Afterwards, when Devlin was sprawled across his chest and that same earring was digging into his ribs, he couldn't recall the last time he'd been so sticky and sweaty and happy about it.  It's not like the bathroom was that far away, but the whole sitting up...and walking...and moving in general...he didn't have the energy for it.

"Aaaugh, my legs are gonna hurt tomorrow," Devlin muttered under his breath as he languidly pulled his hair out of the elastic band.  Then the other teen flopped over onto his back, head still lying on his own arm.

"Man, I am **not** a pillow," Tristan grouched half-heartedly.

"Are now."

"If I get another knot, you're driving...."

Devlin grinned.  "Sure, as long as I get to give you another massage."

Tristan laughed at that until Devlin jabbed him in the side and told him to be still.

He woke up later that night, for no reason that he could immediately tell.  He blinked at the ceiling several times, then frowned when he realized that he shouldn't be able to see it so well.  He shook his head, then tilted his neck up enough to see the bulk of the room.

Devlin was sitting near the edge of the bed, watching cartoons on mute with the sheet half-draped over his legs.  He turned around slightly when he heard the movements, but Tristan couldn't make out his face in the flicker of the screen.

A moment later, Devlin glanced back and turned off the TV, tossing the remote at the other bed before sliding back up and laying his head on the pillow.  Tristan draped his forearm half across the cushion, and Devlin leaned against it slightly.

"...You know, you're the first person my age that I've slept with," Devlin said quietly, so quietly it was almost under his breath.

Tristan rolled on to his side slightly and looked over at the point where he could make out Devlin's head in the darkness.  "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"...no," Devlin replied after a long pause.  "Not now."

"Okay," Tristan replied, letting his voice trail off so that if Devlin changed his mind, he knew the option was still open.  But the other teen just pressed his forehead against his arm and lay still.  So eventually he drifted back to sleep.

They were still clearing more road time than usual, and two days later they reached Waynesville.  That meant they were just a few hours down the 82 and the 17 until they reached Saint Simons Island and home.  Devlin was happy--his phone conversations with the poor bastard that had been left in charge of the shop while he was gone had been getting more and more virulent as the days passed.  And he was happy, since he'd be eating real, homemade food once he got home and sleeping in a bed with a decent mattress.

Of course, his bed at home wasn't going to have Devlin in it, so he couldn't say he was **entirely** glad to be going home.  Add that to the minor detail that he'd failed at his actual point of this trip--figuring out who he was on his own--and his mild dislike of the town in general, and only the fact that his mom made the best meatloaf in the state was keeping him pleased to be back. 

They were eating lunch at Fazoli's when Devlin said suddenly, "Do you know you do that?"

Tristan blinked at him.  "Wanna explain that one a little further?"

Devlin tore a breadstick in half.  "Whenever we drive past a semi, you always stare at the space between the cab and the trunk."

"Oh.  That," he said.  "...Yeah, it's an old habit.  Joey and I, we used to watch those trucks and talk about how we were going to climb on one and just ride out of town.  I still check them out, see which ones have handles and uncluttered platforms that I could hang on to, stuff like that."

Devlin gave him a strange look.  "You really hate Domino, don't you?" he said at last.

Tristan shrugged.  "No, not...really....I've got good friends here.  I'm just not gonna miss it when I leave."

Devlin nodded and jabbed the breadstick in the cup of marinara sauce.

There was a half-uncomfortable silence, until he suddenly said, "Hey, do you mind if we stay here tonight?"

Domino was only a couple of hours away, and the guy had a business to take care of, but Devlin said "Sure," without bothering to think about it.

"Cool," he replied.

There was another silence, while he speared a piece of lasagna with his fork and Devlin polished off the rest of his drink.  Finally, though, Devlin set the cup down on the table.  "So, what happens when we get back to Domino?"

Tristan swallowed, then set his fork down.  He shrugged.  "I dunno, Dev.  I mean, the two of us disappeared at the same time--I'm sure Joey and everyone have some kind of clue."  He looked up.  "Does it really matter if they know, though?  I mean, they're our **friends.  After everything else we've been through, can you really see any of them ditching us or toilet papering the house if we mentioned it?"**

"No, not Tea or Yugi..." Devlin said thoughtfully, "...but are you sure about Joey?"

"Joey's got no right to talk.  He's living with a pedophile."

Devlin choked.  Tristan made a 'what?' gesture.  "C'mon, Mai's how many years older than him?  And he only turned legal a little while ago...."

Devlin whacked his chest a couple times until the coughing subsided.  "I don't think you can call her a pedophile unless he's a kid, though."

"Pfft.  He's got the mind of a child.  It's close enough."

"Heh."  Devlin grinned for a moment longer, before it faded and he started playing with his straw.  "So what about school?"

"Fuck school," Tristan replied.  "It's just one more year, and then that's it."  He frowned, and then glared out the window for a moment.  "Coach McKenzie's a homophobe, though.  If he found out, he'd find some way of throwing me off the basketball team."

Devlin raised an eyebrow.  "The administration couldn't let him get away with that."

Tristan snorted, but shrugged.  "It's happened before....In the end, it's just a game."  He looked at Devlin again.  "Do you want to be a public couple?"

Devlin folded his hands and rested his chin on them.  "Really?  No.  I don't care if people know, but I'm not gonna go around announcing it.  Not a lot of people are going to go to the police and say they were beat up with dice, but still...."

Tristan snickered.  "So **that's** why you picked those as a weapon."

Devlin made a hand motion to reveal a die between his first and second fingers.  "Untraceable **and easy to travel with."  Another motion, and the die disappeared.  Tristan just shook his head and took another bite of lasagna.**

Devlin finished off the breadstick and sat back in the booth.  "So...we get back and just, what?  Wing it?"

He thought about it for a moment, and nodded.  "Yeah," he said.  "Whatever works, great; and whatever doesn't...."  Tristan shrugged again.  "We'll just find a way to make it work.  Somehow.  An' it's not like Domino's a little town or anything."

Devlin nodded.  "Okay."

While they were scouring the town for somewhere to sleep that night, he thought about how the conversation hadn't even begun to deal with everything...what they'd do if the news did get around school, how his parents were going to deal with it, what was going to happen after they graduated and there was college to think of...they hadn't even gotten near to touching on the future.

But it had been a start.  And there was always time to deal with stuff, before and as it showed up.  It really just came down to whether or not he wanted to turn this into a real relationship and keep it like that, and he did.  There were layers to Devlin, ones that he hadn't even suspected until recently, and he wanted to see what they were.

Besides, if he'd failed to figure out his parameters on this trip, that just meant that there was definitely room to fit a sarcastic game-inventing genius into them.  Somewhere.  Probably next to the motorcycles and away from the pancakes.

Devlin attempted to smother him with the pillow the next morning, when he woke him up.  "It's still dark out!  What's wrong with you?!"

"I **know** it's still dark out.  I'm actually up and looking at the window."  Tristan snorted.  "I told you ya oughta go to bed earlier last night, so it's not my fault you don't listen."

"Why the **hell** do you think I'm gonna get up now?" came the muffled reply from where Devlin was hiding under the blankets.

"Because I want to show you something," he replied.  "So hurry or we're gonna miss it."

Devlin finally sat up and gave him a death glare.  "You want to show me something.  At four in the morning."

"It's not four, it's three--"

"**What**!?"

"--and it's at Domino, so we have to get there at the right moment."

Devlin stared at him as though he'd become a pod person.  

Tristan smiled.  "So move it.  I added enough time for you to do all that makeup junk you do, but we're on a schedule."

Devlin rested his forehead on his knees and covered his head with his arms.  "You're crazy.  And I must be crazy."  He shoved the covers back and swung his feet off the bed.  "Whatever you want to show me better be the freaking Second Coming," he muttered.

His reply was perverted enough that Devlin was still laughing when he left to turn in their keys to the checkout desk.

For a while he thought they weren't going to make it, but the early-early morning traffic was lighter than he could remember it being in years, so by the time they crossed the bridge and were on the island, they were right on track.

Once they got on the highway that circled around the cliffs before heading into the heart of Domino's downtown, he breathed deeply.  Yeah, that solved it.  Wherever he went to college, it was going to have to be by the ocean.  He was addicted to salt air.

They were two minutes away from seeing downtown when the sun began rising.  He grinned.

He'd timed it perfectly once more.  By the time they were over the last hill, the sunlight was just hitting the glass buildings, reflecting back from the highest ones like KaibaCorp and the FedEx headquarters and steadily reaching down to the smaller ones.  It made the city look like it was built from gold.

"See?" he yelled back over the roar of the wind.  Devlin didn't say anything for a minute.

His stomach clenched slightly.  Damn, he probably sounded like a sap, and Devlin was going to skin him dead for getting him up so early for something as boring as this.  It was just...Domino actually looked worth living in right at sunrise.  He'd driven out really early in the morning several times in the last couple of years, just to see it like this.

He'd never mentioned it to anyone else, though.  Except Bakura, that time when they'd been coming back from Battle City; and once he'd pointed it out the other teen had just laughed and leaned on the rail before grinning and saying, "Shh.  If you say it so loud, he'll want to steal it."

Bakura had scared the hell out of him at times.  He was glad to be normal, give or take a stint as a robotic monkey.

He was about to shrug and yell back an apology for the time, when the arms around his waist tightened briefly.  "It's great!" Devlin called.

He grinned.

He dropped Devlin off at his shop/home about half an hour later, and turned down the offer for a second, non-granola-bar breakfast in order to actually get home before sunset.  Devlin was not very good at subtle double entendres.

He pulled into his driveway at twenty past seven, picked up the paper, walked inside, and learned from his mother's prompt hug and verbal attack that he'd left the phone off for the past week.  Crap.  He knew he'd forgotten something.  Better call and see how Joey was doing later....

He patted his mother's shoulder and said, "Great to see you too, Mom.  What's for breakfast?"

"Is that all you can say?"  She finally pulled back and he took the opportunity to breathe.

"Sorry, sorry," he added, rummaging through his bag and pulling out the cell phone.  "But at least I didn't run down the battery!"

He got a glare for his trouble.  Geez, and he'd even brought in the paper.

"Hmph," she said, taking the phone back.

About that time, his father walked down the hallway that led back to the bedrooms.  "Vicky?  What's all the--Tristan!"  And now he was being hugged again.  You'd think he'd been gone a year.  "Good to see you back in one piece," the man said.

"What?" Tristan asked cheerfully.  "Y'didn't think I could take care of myself?"

"**I'm** just glad you didn't wind up doing anything illegal or immoral while you were off 'being a man' or whatever that trip was for," his mom interjected, starting to walk back to the kitchen.  "Or at least didn't get caught," she added with a pointed look.

He decided to give her some time to recover before bringing Devlin over for dinner.


End file.
